


After the Hope

by soniagiris



Category: Dangan Ronpa 3: The End of 希望ヶ峰学園 | The End of Kibougamine Gakuen | End of Hope's Peak High School
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bittersweet Ending, Bonding, Developing Friendships, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Male Friendship, Post-Canon, Wordcount: 1.000-5.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-29
Updated: 2017-09-29
Packaged: 2019-01-06 20:14:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12218130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soniagiris/pseuds/soniagiris
Summary: In the end, there's no other choice than understanding each other.





	After the Hope

**Author's Note:**

>   * warnings in the end notes
>   * HAPPY ONE YEAR ANNIVERSARY HOPE ARC!!! I CAN'T BELIEVE IT'S BEEN 365 FUCKING DAYS SINCE MY LIFE GOT DESTROYED OVER HOW UNFAIRLY KYOSUKE MUNAKATA WAS TREATED!!!
> 


Let's be honest — Makoto never was (and probably never will be) the type able to deal with stuff at three — he checks his watch — thirty-seven a.m. And that's why he's standing frozen in the doorway of the house he got after— after the last Incident, clad only in his boxers, undershirt and bunny slippers and staring at Kyosuke goshdang Munakata hovering a few respectable meters before him.

"Come again?" Makoto says, failing to clear his mind. Munakata-kun gives him a befuddled look, then purses his lips.

"I need a place to stay," he repeats dutifully. In the wan light coming from Makoto's mudroom, blurry shadows paint the skin under his eye even darker and catch on wrinkles of his suit jacket. Makoto calculates how long it has been since they had seen each other. Last time was during the funerals, right? And then, when Makoto told Future Foundation to suck it and find another Ultimate Hope, because this one is done, is done and wants out— yeah, Munakata-kun was absent during that shouting fight. 

Good. His presence would have made it harder, after all. After the words he said when the soil has covered their loved ones.

Shaking off the memories, Makoto awkwardly moves away and waves his hand, inviting Munakata-kun in. After the man deposits his briefcase — is that all he got? — on the floor and slips off his shoes, Makoto looks around his living space and frowns. It's spacious, alright, a bit too much for one person, but the only one he could secure after— well. Togami and Komaru have helped him move in, Aoi was the one to assist him in painting the walls and refreshing the furniture, and Yasuhiro dropped a lot of seemingly useless but actually heaven-sent trinkets when the place was set. Surely, it could be better — the stove makes funny noises every two cookings, and it was impossible to remove scratches from armchairs — but it's— bearable? Yeah.

"Would you like some tea or, I don't know, coffee? And then, uh, if you want to, you could... tell me..." Makoto deflates under Munakata-kun's sharp stare. "...what has happened."

For a moment, the man stands tall and proud, his chin high. It's just like back there, in cold, empty corridors, air reeking of blood, and how it all felt, NG code bracelets' weight and scraps after scuffles— But then something in Munakata-kun chips away, and tension leaves his body. But not in a good way, no, it's more like something which was holding him together has abandoned him. His glare grows dull and tired, and when he leans slightly against the wall, it's clear that's the only thing keeping him from falling apart.

"Could I ask for some tea, please?" he mutters, looking down. Makoto nods and, before slipping to the kitchen, briefly rests his hand on Munakata-kun's forearm. 

The tea he brews is bitter and has a stale aftertaste, but it's strong enough to make Makoto concentrate enough to notice things. For example, how Munakata-kun's grip on the mug is shaking, and how wrist bones push on the pale skin visible under the ragged cuffs. Makoto takes a sip and, when the other man takes off his jacket to fold it neatly on the couch, tries to estimate how much weight has he apparently lost — five to seven kilograms in about two months. Closer to seven. And, judging by the callouses on his fingers, he hasn't dropped his kendo training, and— God, his head hurts. Why did he even think he could be like Kyoko?

"Sorry for imposing on you," Munakata-kun says, barely moving his chapped lips. "It's not something any of us would've liked, I'm aware."

"It's okay, it's okay," Makoto shakes his head. A rueful smile forces its way out to his expression. "It gets a bit lonely here, you know."

"But your friends do visit, correct?"

"They do, but..." 

But I wish Kyoko was here. But I wish she was the one to drop in every two days, bringing donuts and case files. But every time Togami shows up, he looks more and more worried, and that means something. But my sister searches the bathroom and the kitchen and thinks I don't know she's looking for pills or blades. But, frankly, I feel lonely, and I'm pretty sure you understand.

With all those words pulsating over his tongue, Makoto shrugs haplessly and sets his mug on the ratty table. 

"But it'd be nice to know someone's here too," he says in the end. "And, uh, forgive me if I'm being presumptuous, but I think the same goes to you."

Munakata-kun nods sharply, then slumps forward a bit and starts fidgeting with a pen he pulls out of his pocket. Makoto watches the motions, then asks, gentle,

"Could you tell me what has happened?"

"Nothing unexpected," Munakata-kun says offhandedly, but there's a small crack in that casualness. "The new chairman decided I'm no longer fit for Future Foundation work and had someone— replace me." He exhales shakily. "And — sorry, but I felt like I needed to get away from it all, even if for a few days, and you were the— the only person I could think of." His voice breaks again. "I'm… I apologise."

"No, no, it's okay," Makoto assures, pulling out the map of the base in his mind. 

Yeah, that does make sense. His house is in the gray zone, not on the outskirts, populated only by soldiers and scouts, but closer to them than to the main living area. And there are no hotels or any other shelters which are not unnervingly nearby the Foundation buildings, so if one were to get away… Yeah. It's safe here, or at least safe enough, with the curfew and occasional patrols, only one despair incident since he moved in… It makes sense, kind of, but it's not really fair it does.

"I mean, what has happened, that wasn't okay," he corrects himself after a beat of pregnant silence. Munakata-kun shakes his head with a wry smirk.

"It was what ought to happen a long time ago," he says, and his pronunciation is monotonous, as if he was reciting those words. Or maybe he is… 

"Is that what you were told?" Makoto asks, to which Munakata-kun cuts his eyes at him. But after a while — he nods again. Makoto raises his mug in a toast, quite freaking sure such sarcasm doesn't fit him. But, hey, cut him some slack, he's been through a lot. 

"Idiots," he says crisply, tired enough to drop the pretenses of still being an innocent child. "If it weren't for you, the Future Foundation would have fallen apart mere days after the Final Game." 

"Who knows?" Munakata-kun drags his finger along the rim of the mug. "Maybe the effort I put in glueing together what Tengan broke could have been redirected into something more practical. More down to earth, perhaps." He meets Makoto's eyes, and, for a moment, allows him to see his bone-deep exhaustion. Regret. Swishing remains of shell shock. 

Makoto sees the ghost of how much he loved Yukizome-san. It's what he sees in his own eyes whenever he looks in the mirror and thinks about Kyoko standing by his side.

"Perhaps," he echoes. 

"Now let me the presuming one. Your reason for resigning was not dissimilar to mine." Munakata-kun raises the pen again, then puts it back. "Because being the Hope turned out not to be what your expected." When Makoto doesn't answer, he huffs, then asks, "How have you been doing for those past months?"

"I— okay, I guess. Was doing okay." Makoto closes his eyes with a small smile. "Togami-kun visits often, and my sister too, they've been bringing me Gekkogahara-san's paper, and I try to make my way through them. My life's quite boring now."

"You study psychology?" Munakata-kun raises his brow. "Why?"

Huh. Guess it's impossible to shy away from hard topics tonight, Makoto muses, then says,

"Because I still want to help people. Just one at a time, not— not the entire world. And, you know what, thanks to this work, I can say I— I was very unfair to you during— you know when, Munakata-kun." He lets the honorific slip. So what? They've went through too much to tend to the brick walls in-between.

"Don't overthink it," Munakata-kun says with a shake of his head. His white hair falls into his eye, but he seems not to care about it. "Your words were enough to make me stop and reconsider, and that's what counts."

"No, that's wrong," Makoto says gently. "I acted like I knew what you were going through, which wasn't true. Truth—" he shivers "— truth be told, I don't know what would I do if Ki—Kyoko turned out to be Despair. Maybe I really would regret meeting her. Me thinking that our pain could be comparable— Yeah, well." He chokes on a laugh. "It all was too much for me, and I apologise."

"Hah…" Munakata-kun runs his slender fingers through his bangs, mouth curved in a rueful smile. "It's too much for either of us, damn cowards." When he stills, Makoto sees his eye shining with unspilled tears. Realizes there's wetness on his own cheeks, too.

"Dang cowards," he agrees, making Munakata-kun snort (it's such a funny noise, and it doesn't fit him, not at all, but it does fit someone much younger — but aren't they both just kids, in the end?), then reaches out across the table and offers his hand, the inside of his palm upwards. Munakata-kun blinks at it, then takes it and holds on, tight. 

"How long would it be okay of me to stay?" he asks quietly.

"However long you want," Makoto answers, using his free hand to wipe at his tears. "It— it gets pretty lonely, and boring, and studying psychology for the entire day isn't really uplifting." An idea blooms in his mind. "You said, something more down to earth…"

"Yes?"

"We could just— I don't know," Makoto purses his lips. "Leave? Go for some sort of a messed up road trip, help people, stuff like that."

Munakata-kun falls silent, then replies,

"Give me a week, if you may. Then we can talk about this again, make more concrete plans, and… leave all of this."  _ Behind _ , he doesn't say.

His hand warms, and he puts the other one on the top. Makoto thinks of all the PDA he heard about, and realizes, skin hunger. 

Now, to be absolutely frank, Makoto kind of feels like giving Munakata-kun a hug, and really regrets not doing that those two and a half months ago, instead of running his mouth.

For a moment no longer than a heartbeat, Makoto's back there, in a rummage-filled basement, sorrow and grief a tightly packed ball of barbed wire in his chest, scraps and itches a mask on his face, and Munakata-kun's slumped form on the piece of the rubble, the most broken a human could be. Dust and despair burn in his nose.

Makoto blinks back to the reality, and the knowing look Munakata-kun gives him makes it clear his brief escape from present didn't go unnoticed.

"Sorry," Makoto says out of habit.

"Don't." Munakata-kun gives him a stern look, then adds as an afterthought, "your tea seems to be growing cold."

"I— yeah." Makoto finishes it in a gulp, then gets up to take the empty mugs to the kitchen. 

When he gets back, he debates with himself for a while, then sits on the couch instead of the chair. He's not exactly touching Munakata-kun, but can feel his breathing, his warmth, his miniscule trembles. Their hands entangle again, and hold on tightly. And, when the hard talk begins to soften, then dissolve like blood in the water as the both men start to fall asleep, they don't let go. Makoto wakes up at seven AM, a wordless shout bubbling in his throat. Munakata-kun doesn't even stir, but there is a dried out tear track on his cheek. 

"Good morning," Makoto mouths and — and wishes for this moment to stay, just a bit longer.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> a/n
> 
>   * **cw: ptsd allusions; depression allusions; disordered eating discussion; self-harm allusions; suicide allusions; violence mentions;**
>   * guys i started writing this fic around the beginning of july..... it's so Old.... old like balls
>   * ALSO !!! CANT' BELIEVE IT'S REALLY BEEN A YEAR!!! I'M SO SO EMO!!!! SO EMO!!!!!
>   * oh and in other news - i may not be able to post much for a while. there's a Thing happening that may end up in me not having an access to a computer for some time. truth be told, my worries may be baseless, but, just in case, i'm letting y'all know. o/
>   * comment/kudo if you read/liked c:
> 



End file.
